A Little Soul
by Lekta
Summary: First Class AU Charles makes a discovery that changes his and Eric's lives forever. What does this mean for Eric's mission? Will he continue his quest for revenge or will Shaw get away free? R&R
1. Superman Song

A/N: Yeah, I lied. I said I wasn't gonna post anything new but as you can see, I'm in an X-Men mood so I decided to try my hand at a First Class AU. So, please read & review if you like it. Much obliged.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in X-Men, either First Class or the original comics. They belong to Marvel. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

_And everybody's telling me you look like me but please don't turn into me. _  
><em>You look like me but you're not like me I hope. <em>  
><em>I have run away from the one thing that I ever made. <em>  
><em>Now I only wish that I could show you - wish I could show a little soul. <em>

_-A Little Soul_, Pulp-

**Chapter 1: Superman's (Not) Dead**

Charles Xavier was tired.

A deep, bone-ache, slumped shoulders, bleary-eyed, looking ready to cry kind of exhaustion that only came from being the most stubborn man on the planet. He had been using Cerebro everyday, trying to find more mutants, trying to let them know that they weren't alone…but it took its toll on him. Most of the minds he touched were so chaotic it was like a buzzing noise from the radio. A constant stream of fuzzy chatter and blurred emotions, or sometimes panic, fear and loathing so sharp it made him recoil away. Sometimes he spoke to them, tried to communicate with others like him but often times he sent them into waves of panic and he realized that perhaps speaking into someone's mind was not the best way to make new friends (a lesson he should've learnt when he was a child but always seemed to forget in his excitement).

Hank had gone to work in his lab deep within the mansion and the rest of the students were quickly enveloped by sleep after a day of training with Erik. Sean was dreaming about fish floating upside down in an aquarium while Alex's dreams featured him winning the game in football (the American kind that didn't involve the use of feet, Charles amended himself). Raven's dreams were shrouded in a deep blue darkness which had seemed ominous and frightening to Charles but Raven seemed to be sleeping calmly. Erik's dreams were as confusing as the man who dreamed them and Charles chose to respect the mysterious man's traumatic past and withdrew from them. Still, while the rest of the mansion slept…Charles worked tirelessly, using the metal helmet to cast his mind out across America. Hank thought that he could change the range to cast wider but it had so far proved unsuccessful, still the young genius remained optimistic.

Charles rubbed his forehead, creased in strain and pressure from the metal helmet and machine. Hank and Erik had already warned him not to try to use Cerebro for too long after an unfortunate nosebleed caused some panic. Honestly, it was just a little blood and maybe a headache but he was _fine_. Still, they restricted his use of Cerebro and even went so far as to chaperone him! Alright, so they never outright said that but Hank always had something to fiddle with in the dome machine and Erik always said that Charles looked ridiculous in that helmet and it was a great opportunity for mocking the otherwise infallible Charles Xavier. Charles often wondered if they forgot he was a telepath and could read the worry in their minds as well as their eyes. Still, the concern was nice. He never had friends who had been concerned about his wellbeing- well, except for Raven and she was the first one to call him an idiot when he did something stupid like play football (the one that involved feet) to impress a girl he had liked only to sprain his ankle trying to win the game. Still, Charles thought fondly, the girl he had been trying to impress had graciously offered to be his nurse while he was recovering, so it wasn't the worst idea he'd had.

"Five more minutes" Charles decided, resolutely picking up the helmet again even though his head throbbed with every beat of his heart. "Five more minutes and then I'll go to bed."

Charles took a deep breath through his teeth and put the helmet on over his hair which was damp with sweat and did the strap under his chin. Steeling himself against the onslaught, he slammed his hand down on the button on the console. His hands tightened around the bars as his eyes widened and a groan of pain poured from his clenched teeth. He could hear a thousand voices, cries of pain, laughter and he could feel every single one of them like he knew them as intimately as his own body. They were in his skin; he could taste what they were eating, see what they were seeing. Mists surrounded some, clouded others so that he couldn't tell where the voices were coming from. It was like being relentlessly battered by waves of pain, emotion and feeling. He knew each thought intimately as he pushed through, searching for that tiny spark of recognition which meant mutant. A sense of familiarity, knowing that they were like you. It was euphoria. It was a painful kind of ecstasy as his mind was crowded into by each thought demanding his full attention like a needy child. He pushed through the thoughts until everything blurred together to become one huge echo of suffering that made him gasp as he was pulled and prodded from all sides. This must be what going mad feels like, Charles thought to himself before his thought was snatched away by someone else's pain…someone else's madness. Feeling light-headed in panic as he fought against the invading minds, he latched onto the brightest spark he could find and let it pull him out of the mists of faceless people until he could breathe again.

Finally, feeling air pulling into his starving lungs, Charles glanced around at the mind he was in. It was dark with the tiniest bursts of light which quickly exploded and rained on Charles like a shower of shooting stars. He had never projected himself into another's mind before.

"Hello?" He called out tentatively, feeling the mind awaken, shaking off its' slumber like a sleepy beast. It was a disturbing sensation. Feeling intimately connected to the mind he was residing in but feeling his body pull air into his lungs, feel the sweat running down his back, the slight tremor in his tired limbs at the same time as if one were an echo of the other.

"Go away, "a voice answered.

"My name's Charles Xavier." He answered, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. "Who are you?"

"I said go away," the voice said again, sounding almost petulant as it surrounded him.

"I'd really like to meet you first," Charles suggested, glancing around. "Perhaps we could talk face to face?"

"No, I'm busy and you're bothering me." The voice answered again and Charles could practically see the angry pout even though the face was still clouded. He felt a push at his midsection and took a step back.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to get back. I seem to be a bit lost and you don't seem concerned that I'm in your mind, talking to you."

"I'm dreaming. Sister Matilda says that when you dream God talks to you." The voice answered, sounding high-pitched instead of the ominous boom it had been before.

"I'm afraid I'm not God," Charles answered with a chuckle.

"I know that!" The voice said, annoyed and Charles felt another weak push but this time it barely moved him.

"God doesn't talk funny," the voice continued.

"I don't talk funny!" Charles exclaimed with a laugh.

"Yes, you do!" The voice insisted and Charles looked straight ahead at the direction it was coming from. "You've got a funny sounding voice."

"That's my accent. I'm from England. Do you know where that is?" Charles asked, staring straight ahead into the shadows.

"Of course I do, I'm not a little baby!" The voice said, hotly.

"My apologies, I never thought you were. Anyways, people in England talk like I do because they have an English accent. Well, it really depends on where you're from but I'd really like to know more about you."

"Why?" The voice said suspiciously. Charles could see the shadows lightening up where he was staring.

"Because it seems rude to come into someone's mind and not know their name." Charles responded. "I already introduced myself and the polite thing to do would be to tell me your name."

The mind was silent, even the mists seemed frozen in place, no longer spinning through the space but staying completely still.

"You don't need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," Charles said soothingly.

"I'm not afraid!"

"Alright," Charles conceded. "But won't you show me your face? It's difficult to have a polite conversation when there's no one to talk to."

Charles wondered if his request had scared the voice off until the mists parted to reveal a tall, muscular figure striding through the gloom. Charles blinked, not quite able to hide the smile on his face as he stared into the stern face of Superman.

"Well, hello there," Charles said. "And who might you be?"

"Don't you read stuff? I'm Superman!" The person said haughtily, its cape flourishing in the non-existent wind. For a moment, Superman's image flickered to reveal someone much shorter and smaller but Charles still couldn't see whose mind he was in.

"Oh, of course, my apologies… Superman," Charles said with a smile, stifling any laughter.

"What do you want?" Superman asked, the voice coming out squeakier than the muscled figure would have been expected to have. Charles clamped down on his laughter.

"You don't seem upset that I'm speaking to you in your mind," Charles observed.

"I'm not upset. I don't care except that you're bothering my sleep. That's not nice."

"I'm very sorry, only I'm a little lost. I was looking for something and I was pulled towards here," Charles explained.

"What are you looking for?"

"Someone like me. I'm a mutant, I can read people's minds and these abilities make me different from other people. I've been looking for other people like me. And I think you might me a mutant too," Charles explained kindly.

"I don't have any powers!" Superman exclaimed.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't have been brought here if you didn't," Charles said patiently even though he was frowning on the inside. He had felt the bright spark that meant mutant- maybe he was so tired he was beginning to imagine things? No, he was certain of it.

"I don't have any powers," Superman insisted petulantly. "But Wanda does."

"Wanda?" Charles picked up on the name. "Who's Wanda?"

He got a rush of images, dark hair and pale skin, hands with surrounded by bright energy before the connection was cut off.

"No one! Wanda's no one! Go away! Go away, go away!" Superman shrieked and Charles could fear the fearful rumbling under his feet, making him take a step back.

"It's alright; you don't need to be afraid." Charles tried to placate the figure even as the mind he was in trembled viciously, throwing him to the floor. "It's alright, please calm down."

"Leave! Leave Wanda alone! Go away!" The voice continued to shriek becoming high-pitched and Charles clamped his hands over his ringing ears.

"Alright! Please, just stop!" Charles cried through the pain piercing his entire body. There was jolt, his stomach jumping into his throat, his ears popping and with a cry Charles was pushed out of the mind and back into his own body. He fell to his knees, the helmet hanging uselessly in the air as he took in ragged breaths, hands grabbing at his head to try to control the pain. He trembled, limbs jerking uncontrollably for several minutes as he fought to get his breathing under control.

'_What in the bloody hell just happened?'_ Charles thought to himself.


	2. Somebody Help Me

A/N: Yeah, I lied. I said I wasn't gonna post anything new but as you can see, I'm in an X-Men mood so I decided to try my hand at a First Class AU. So, please read & review if you like it. Much obliged. I just wanted to clarify, I am aware that Magneto has three children (including one green-haired daughter) however, Lorna will not be his child in my story. She may be referenced but that is all. Also, Pietro doesn't have any special mental powers. His powers will stay as canon intended them to be. That is all. Some references in this chapter, see if you can spot them all!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in X-Men, either First Class or the original comics. They belong to Marvel. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

_And everybody's telling me you look like me but please don't turn into me. _  
><em>You look like me but you're not like me I hope. <em>  
><em>I have run away from the one thing that I ever made. <em>  
><em>Now I only wish that I could show you - wish I could show a little soul. <em>

_-A Little Soul_, Pulp-

**Chapter 2: Somebody Help Me**

Erik was silent as they drove through the winding streets of Manhattan. His thoughts however were _extremely _loud.

"Erik, my friend, would you please stop shouting so loudly?" Charles asked, rubbing his temples to alleviate his headache.

"You're reading my mind again," Erik accused, eyes glancing to glare at his passenger.

"It's not like I can help it when you're projecting," Charles sighed, well used to this argument.

"Then would you please explain to me why you decided to go on this little excursion so early this morning?" Erik asked, annoyance colouring his tone.

"It's hardly early," Charles defended. "Besides you were already awake."

"That's because someone was banging at my door. Now, I thought we had enough students for your little team, so pray tell, why are we driving to meet more?" Erik asked, rolling his eyes.

"This one is special," Charles said after a few moments.

"Special?" Erik said, raising an eyebrow, "How so?"

"I intend to find that out," Charles answered.

"I see," Erik nodded. "And how did you find this 'extraordinary' mutant, hmm?"

"Cerebro, of course." Charles said, "it was amazing, my friend! I was tugged into the mutants mind and it was…the strangest and most incredible experience. I didn't even realize I could access that level of consciousness."

"Cerebro! Do you have some sort of suicidal wish, Charles? You promised that you wouldn't use that ridiculous machine in excess!" Erik growled, glaring at Charles.

"Really, Erik, it was hardly excessive," Charles waved off his friend's concern.

"Need I remind you that the last time you said that you were suffering from a migraine for _four_ days."

"My own fault. I extended myself too far. I forgot my own limits." Charles said.

"You do not think you have any limits, Charles. That is the problem," Erik told him seriously.

"A life with limits is dull and boring. I much prefer the excitement of discovery."

For a moment, Charles saw Erik's jaw twitch and he was certain that he was going to get yelled at again but Erik's face relaxed into impassiveness and he went back to staring at the road. Charles sighed; he had already received a condensed version of the same lecture from Hank this morning. He understood that overtaxing himself using Cerebro was dangerous but Erik was sulking which is what he did when he wouldn't get his way. Charles sighed and placed his hand on Erik's knee.

"Erik, you are right. I should not have risked using Cerebro when I was so tired. It was a mistake and I'm sorry I worried you," he said, squeezing Eric's leg gently to show his sincerity.

"I was not worried," Eric muttered to himself, glancing down at the hand on his knee until Charles removed it and then went back to concentrating on his driving.

"Of course," Charles said, bemused and not believing his friend at all.

"Well, let's go find this mystery mutant of yours, shall we?" Erik cleared his throat.

"By all means," Charles waved his hand languidly and leaned back in his seat. His headache was beginning to withdraw although he still felt a bit foggy.

"Oh, and Charles?" Erik said, grip tightening on the steering wheel as they pulled in front of a greystone building. "Should you ever decide to use Cerebro like that again, without someone to make sure you do not end up bleeding from multiple orifices, I will cast you and _it_ into the farthest sea, understand?"

"Of course, my friend," Charles said genially even though he was certain that Erik would carry out the threat. It was just the gruff way in which he showed that he cared.

"I suppose this is it?" Charles said, changing the subject as he opened the car door and got out. He heard the echoing slam from Erik's door as the other walked over to stand beside him. Charles looked over at the taller man before glancing up at the building. It wasn't anything special. Just a simple grey stone building with a painted black gate and a little gravel walkway. It had four windows with white curtains which hid the inside from any nosy passersby. Charles chose to go first and Erik dutifully followed like a shadow, up to the door and knocking on it, noticing that the plaque said: St. Andrew's Orphanage.

The door opened to reveal a shorter woman in a plain grey dress and sensible black shoes. Her eyes were bright blue although weathered by age that showed in her wrinkled skin yet still there was something almost resigned in her eyes and Charles could detect the tiniest bit of fear. Her hair was covered by a black kerchief but a few wisps of gray were protruding from the temple, escaping their bondage.

"Hello, I'm Charles Xavier and this is my associate Erik Lensherr," he said genially in his usual chipper tone.

"Sister Agatha, may I help you gentleman with anything?" The sister said shrewdly.

"We're actually here looking for someone, someone with very special abilities," Charles continued, watching her face closely. There was a brief recognition, her eyes widening in fear before her eyes grew shuttered. Still Charles caught the tiniest tendril of thought, a fearfully whispered name _Wanda_.

"There's no one here like that. This is just an orphanage for children. Please go away," she said, already closing the door but Charles's foot stuck in the doorway, preventing her from shutting the door in their faces.

"Please, we can help. Whatever you're frightened of, we can take care of it It's alright, now," Charles said soothingly, adding an extra push into her own thoughts. She nodded at him with a dazed look in her eyes, allowing him to push the door open and step inside.

"Why Charles, if you weren't so uptight, I would suggest that you had used your ability to get you behind locked doors before," Erik said, pitching his voice so that only Charles could hear.

Charles smirked, "who says I haven't?" Charles missed the brief grin on Erik's face as he turned to Sister Agatha, who was playing nervously with her hands.

"Now then, Sister, what's the problem here?" Charles asked politely.

Sister Agatha's eyes darted two and fro nervously and she took a steadying breath before saying, "it's this…girl. She's just…she's odd and sometimes when she gets angry….things will fly around the room, or the water will start to boil, and things..." The woman quickly crossed herself, continuing haltingly, "we tried…we called a priest, there must have been a demon in her but he-"

"You tried to exorcise a child?" Erik's angry tone surprised Charles for a moment thought it echoed his own horrified thoughts. He got the briefest of flashes of a terrified face, dark hair and bright, bright blue before he shook his head of the disturbing images.

"She wasn't," Sister Agatha paused growing flustered. "She's not a child, she's a _demon_. Last week, she _hurt _one of the other children. No one will take her and the only one who stays near her is her brother."

"She has a brother? Would this brother by any chance like Superman?" Charles perked up, certain that the mind he had been in had been male.

"Y-yes," Sister Agatha stammered out. "It's the only comics we allow the children to have, besides the Bible…But you're supposed to help us with the…girl."

"Of course, we will." Charles answered coolly, "It would be best if we got her as far away from you as possible, hmm? Take her somewhere far away, never to be seen again?"

"Yes, exactly, we don't condone that sort of…but-," Sister Agatha nodded her head quickly, wringing her hands even though the relief was palpable. "_You should not let a sorceress live_. Exodus 22:17."

"Ignorant humans, quoting your Bible even though you don't understand it, trying to justify your murders. She isn't a witch. If she is different and angry, it's because you fear her power, the weak always fear power." Erik scoffed from behind Charles, looking down on the woman like she was an insect that was annoying him.

"Erik, please," Charles said, resting a calming hand on his arm. He glanced at the shaking woman and reined in his own anger. They didn't know that the child they were dealing with was a mutant, they thought she possessed and they tried to help her the only way they knew how. It was horrible, yes but he couldn't blame them. Not really.

"May we see her and her brother?" Charles asked though all warmth was gone from his tone and cool politeness had taken its place.

"She's in here," Sister Agatha said, leading them to a small door. With quivering hands she pulled a large brass key out of her pocket and trembling, unlocked the door.

Charles took one look through the door. Unable to keep the horror out of his voice when he said, "you locked her in the cupboard."

"We had to; she couldn't….not with the other children. We were trying to protect them!" Sister Agatha protested, withering under Erik's cold glare. Charles heard his friend's hand clench around the coin in his hand, he could practically hear the metal warping from the strain.

"You are going to go upstairs now," Charles said to Sister Agatha, "and you will stay in your bedroom for three hours until you are certain that we are far away. Then you will never, ever lock _any _child in this cupboard again, do you understand me?"

"Yes," Sister Agatha said, shrinking away from Charles's angry gaze. She didn't even wait for his dismissal, just ran up the stairs as if hell hounds were nipping at her heels.

Charles moved forward but stopped at Erik's voice.

"I'll let you handle it," Erik said, calmly.

"Are you certain?" Charles asked. He could feel the anger encroaching on Erik's thoughts, matching the sharp nod the other man gave him.

"I won't be long," Charles promised.

"I'll be here waiting," Erik said in kind, turning to stand against the wall, posture rigid with tension.

Charles watched as the coin flew gracefully between Erik's fingers, his eyes softened in sadness at seeing the bastard metal but he couldn't do anything about his friend's masochistic behavior. Instead he turned to go into the cupboard, ducking his head into the doorway. It was a very small space and he couldn't even fit into it without bending his back.

"It's alright; you can come out now, "Charles said to the children huddled together in the corner, once he was certain that the nun was gone.

He saw two pairs of identical bright blue eyes, one of them filled with defiance, the other with curiousity. Charles continued to smile at them in encouragement and they slowly got to their feet. The brother and sister were nearly identical, they had the same cheekbones, sharp noses, thin mouths and pale skin, although whether that was their natural tone or just a result of them being locked inside, Charles was uncertain. They even had the same build, slender bodies with long legs. The only difference besides their genders was the fact that the girl had dark hair, almost black while the boy's hair was such a light blonde that under the single light bulb it looked blinding white.

"Are you Wanda then?" Charles asked to the little girl as she crept closer. She gave him a nod; keep a tight grip on her brother's hand.

"It's lovely to meet you, Wanda. My name's Charles Xavier."He said, kneeling down to her level.

"You were in my head!" The boy accused, trying to tug his sister away.

"And you must be the mysterious Superman," Charles said turning to give the little boy a smile.

"Is that what he's been telling you?" Wanda said, rolling her eyes which caused her brother to pout at her.

"Why are you here?" The boy demanded, petulantly as only a child could.

"Well, I suppose I'm here for you," Charles said, uncertain of how to explain the situation to the children.

The boy's eyes widened and he quickly grabbed onto his sister's arm, pulling her away from Charles.

"You're not taking her! If you try to take her…I'll….I'll do something really horrible to you!" he shouted, turning a brilliant shade of red in his anger.

"I'm not trying to take her-" Charles said, trying to placate the angry child.

"No! You're just like the scary man! You can't have her! I won't let you!" He continued to shout, growing increasingly desperate as his sister still refused to move.

"Hush," Wanda said to him, wrapping an arm around his skinny shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. "He's different."

"How do you know?" The boy demanded, angry tears already coursing down his cheeks, little sniffles following them.

"He feels different. It's okay," she said to her brother, soothingly. She glanced up at Charles and he smiled gently at her, trying to exude warmth, safety and protection. The boy gave a mighty hiccup and then sighed, leaning against his sister's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said. "He just…He's really 'motional."

"I expect that he was just trying to protect you, love," Charles said to Wanda.

Wanda sighed, "I'm the older sibling. I'm 'sposed to take care of him."

"Only by two minutes," the boy protested.

"Hush," Wanda said as if trying to silence a grumpy baby. "You've met this man before, then? He's the man with the weird voice from your dream?"

"Uh huh," the boy nodded.

"Are you still hung up on that? I had hoped our conversation helped you see me in a better light," Charles sighed dramatically, although he was still grinning. "Although, I suppose, I can't keep calling you Superman. What's your real name?"

"None of your busy-ness-"

"His name's Pietro," Wanda supplied helpfully.

"_Wanda!_" Pietro whined.

"What? It's not like he wouldn't find out 'ventually," Wanda shrugged. Pietro gave her an annoyed glare, moving off her shoulder but still staying beside her.

"Are you taking us somewhere?" Wanda asked.

"Yes I-I have a home, well, I'm hoping it'll become a school someday. A school for people like us."

"People like us?" Wanda echoed, scrunching up her face in confusion.

"Mutants. That's what you are Wanda. Mutants, well, they're the next stage of evolution and it's my hope that mutants and humans can learn to work together peacefully. That's what I'm hoping the school will do. You have powers don't you?"

"Sometimes…" Wanda hesitated, "sometimes when I'm mad, things _move._ I don't know why and I really didn't mean to hurt Jimmy but…he pushed me off the swing and then the swing…it went around him and…he flew through the air and I really didn't mean to do it!"

"I know, you'll learn to control your powers Wanda, so things like that don't happen. Your powers are just like a muscle and they can be controlled." Charles said to her.

"But what about Pietro?" Wanda said, glancing at her brother who refused to meet her gaze. "He doesn't have any powers."

"Oh, I think that Pietro has his own extraordinary abilities just waiting to come out," Charles said mysteriously.

"Really?" Pietro perked up. "Will I be able to fly? Or walk on water? Or turn invisible?"

"I don't know. But I'm certain whatever it is, it will be perfect," Charles said honestly.

"Wicked," Pietro grinned.

"Now then, are you ready to go? I don't suppose you have anything you'd like to take with you?" Charles said, standing up and nearly hitting his head as he backed out of the enclosed space.

"Uh uh," Wanda shook her hand, following after him and dragging her brother by his tiny hand behind her.

"Wonderful, then we'll be on our way. Oh, before I forget, this is my associate, Erik Lensherr," Charles said to the children, spotting Erik's upright figure in the hallway. "Erik, this is Pietro and Wanda."

"Maximoff," Wanda said, giving her last name. Charles smiled at her and glanced at Erik. His smile dropped to see the look of frightened horror on his friend's face before it slid back into its impassive mask but Charles still felt the fear and apprehension in his friend.

"Erik-" Charles reached out to soothe both his mind and to provide some kind of reassurance but Erik's eyes never left the children who were staring up at him, blue clashing against blue. Erik's eyes flew up to meet Charles and then Erik did the one thing he was very, _very_ good at, besides killing the Nazis who had hurt him, he ran.


	3. Runs in the Family

A/N: I'm sorry this one is so late. It was much harder to write the scene between Erik and Charles than I imagined. I tried to really bring out the emotion in Erik but I'm still not happy with it, that's why it's also a_ lot_ shorter than the rest. Hopefully, the next chapter'll be better. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in X-Men, either First Class or the original comics. They belong to Marvel. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

_And everybody's telling me you look like me but please don't turn into me. _  
><em>You look like me but you're not like me I hope. <em>  
><em>I have run away from the one thing that I ever made. <em>  
><em>Now I only wish that I could show you - wish I could show a little soul. <em>

_-A Little Soul_, Pulp-

**Chapter 3: Runs in the Family**

Charles gave the startled children what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but looked more like a grimace and then went out the door after his friend. He found Erik inside the car, staring straight ahead and hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. Charles frowned, seeing the dents in the metal door but he shook his head, determined to deal with it later and strode forward, opening the car door and sliding into the seat beside the very pale looking Erik. Erik's eyes didn't even glance at Charles; he just continued to pull air into his body through his clenched mouth. Charles reached over and placed a gentle hand on top of one of Erik's, he could feel the slight tremors that showed that the usually stoic man was shaken.

"Erik?" Charles inquired softly, trying to understand the man's severe reaction; he didn't see Erik as the running away type.

"…I didn not realize- I thought…" Erik took a shuddering breath and continued, "they are mine, Charles."

"What's yours?" Charles asked confused.

"The children. They are mine," Erik answered dully.

Charles withdrew his hand quickly, shock evident on his handsome face. A million thoughts raced through his head and for once, they were all his own.

"Do not look so surprised, Charles," Erik chuckled hoarsely, glancing at his friend. "There was one point in my miserable existence where I was happy."

"Erik," Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "are you certain?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, explaining, "the last name…Maximoff. It was my wife's."

"You were married?" Charles asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yes, Charles. Some women do find me attractive; I am not a complete monster. Do not sound so surprised," Erik said wryly.

"I didn't mean it like that, Erik," Charles hastened to explain. "It's just…surprising that's all. It was my understanding that you spent your entire life chasing after Shaw."

At the man's name, Erik's grip tightened on the steering wheel and Charles could hear the groan of the metal car beginning to fold in on itself. He quickly laid a hand on Erik's knee.

"Calm yourself, my friend," he said to Erik. "Tell me about your wife."

"Why?" Erik said, suspiciously. Charles saw the shuttered look return to the brilliant blue eyes.

"I would like to know," Charles said simply. He was certain that Erik would refuse; getting the stoic man to reveal personal information was as difficult as getting Raven out of the bathroom in the morning.

"Her name was Magda. We met…well, several times. I stayed in a village in Romania and often found myself at the same café. Magda would come in once every week, order the same thing-coffee and a biscuit- and sit outside on the little stone wall, reading a book. She approached me one day, sat down right across from me and started to talk about the book she was currently reading. We were…social a few more times after that until one night…" Erik's tone had softened, almost becoming wistful as he told his story. It made Charles smile softly.

"We married…it was a simple ceremony and we lived in a house just outside of the village that we met. It was in our third month of living there that Magda found out she was pregnant. For a moment, I thought perhaps I had found the peace I had been denied my entire life. I was constantly following her, making sure that she rested, that she ate…we used to lie in bed and I'd listen to my child in her womb. The feeling of knowing that my wife and I had made something together, made a dhild...It was like nothing I had ever known before."

Erik paused, his hoarse voice drifting off as he was caught up in some traumatic memory and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Erik?" Charles prodded softly.

"It was too soon. Magda went into labour early, it was snowing…there was a storm. When we got there, they took her away. That was the last time I saw her. She looked so scared…Hours later, a doctor came out to tell me that both my daughter had arrived, healthy. When I held her…it was like the whole world stop for a single moment. She had my eyes and she smiled at me…" Erik said quietly, his lips twitching into a smile at the memory.

Charles found himself smiling along. It wasn't hard to imagine the little pink face even without the help of Erik's memories. This was the most open his friend had been and Charles found himself never wanting the moment to end. But Erik suddenly frowned, eyes growing stormy and the moment of brilliant peace shattered and Charles found himself aching for the loss of it.

"Did you know you were having twins?" Charles asked, trying to return Erik to that beautiful memory.

"No," Erik shook his head. "One baby was enough of a miracle. We had lost one…before we were married. A little girl. I thought God had sent me a daughter to replace the one he stole. Two children. A princess and a prince, Charles, it was like I had been granted two miracles. I saw our lives before my eyes as the doctor told me I had a son. I prayed that they were mutants, that I could teach them to use their powers…teach them how special they were, how important…My children would not grow up wanting _anything_," Erik said fiercely, undoubtedly thinking of his own starved childhood. Charles squeezed his friend's knee in comfort, anchoring him to the present instead of the traumatic memories. He could see the fierce determination in his friend's memories of holding his daughter; Erik would have anything to protect them.

"Then Magda died," Erik said his voice turning hollow.

"How?" Charles asked, upset and empty now that the joyful expression had left his companion's face.

"She bled out, complications from the birth…the stress of two children, I am not certain…I fled the hospital, I gave my daughter to the stunned doctor and left. I tore apart our house, angry at the world, at God and at Magda for lying to me, for leaving me on my own. I did not return for three days, having exhausted myself and the first thing I said to the doctor was: "Get rid of them. I do not want them."

"Erik," Charles gasped. "How could you-?"

"I do not need your recriminations, thank you, Charles." Erik snapped out, glaring fiercely at the passenger seat, " I was grieving and I could not bear the thought of caring for the children I had exchanged for my wife. So, it was settled and the children were adopted. I caught Shaw's scent soon after that and spent the rest of my life chasing after him, hungry for vengeance."

"And the children? Did you never wonder what happened to them?" Charles dared to ask.

Erik laughed, though it was a broken and harsh sound, "I had more important things on my mind. I assumed they would be taken care of."

"Then how did the end up in America if they were born in Europe?" Charles wondered.

"I do not know," Erik shook his head.

"Well, we can't leave them here….not after what weI saw." Charles said finally. "We have to take them with us."

Erik was still staring straight ahead, mouth pressed into a tight line and clearly not listening.

"Erik?" Charles said again, waiting for Erik to look at him before continuing, "would you be alright with them coming with us? They are your children and they need a home."

"Do what you want, Charles. I want nothing to do with them," Erik said finally, if a bit wearily, turning to start the car.

Charles muttered something about getting the children and then left the car, reeling from the revelation and the dismissive tone that Erik seemed suddenly fond of. He had lived in a house where neither of his parents truly cared for him, except for out of duty. There were no bedtime stories, or kisses goodnight…that wasn't proper for them. He was a decoration they could trot out when company came over and then once his accomplishments had been dutifully listed, he would be sent away to "play in his room". But he wondered what was worse, living in a home where your parents clearly didn't want you but being safe, fed and sheltered…or to be abandoned into the world, not knowing who you came from.

Charles opened the front door and forced a smile on his face as Pietro and Wanda glanced up from the chairs they were sitting on. He put those thoughts out his mind. These children needed him and if Erik didn't want them- no matter how much it made Charles angry at his friend- he would care for them himself.

"Alright, then," he said in false brightness, gesturing out the door. "Shall we go?"


End file.
